


Welcome 2 My Nightmare

by brodylover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, human cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-29
Updated: 2012-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-19 20:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodylover/pseuds/brodylover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is human and he is hypersensitive to emotions. He's also having bad dreams and cant stand Dean to touch him. What had Dean done to make Cas this way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome 2 My Nightmare

It was weird having an angel that could feel. Angel's weren't supposed to have emotions and as Cas became more human those feelings were flooding into him. It was painful to watch, each slight emotion ripping into him like a physical wound. He would clutch his gut, rocking forward in the pain of being amused by a small joke. He would clench his fists and bite his lip until they were bleeding, irritation knocking him off of his feet.   
Even though he couldn't mojo himself away, the Winchesters still didn't see him all that much. He spent a lot of time in bathrooms, trying to get away from them to feel things on his own, to calm down, and he wouldn't come out until he was no longer shaking.   
At first they had tried to keep him emotionless. Sam wouldn't tease Dean, he wouldn't reveal any research when Cas was around, he wouldn't ask for them to open up and talk about their feelings. Dean wouldn't reference tv shows and movies, he wouldn't tease Sam, he wouldn't drink, or bring women back to the motel room. It was like they were being quarantined for emotion.   
That hadn't lasted very long though and they soon stopped trying. Cas would just have to get used to feeling things.  
It was weird having an angel that had to eat. He ate a lot, more than the two Winchesters combined, and he savored everything. It was as if he was catching up on all the food he hadn't eaten in the past 2,000 years. He ate slowly, tasting and exploring his food, turning potato salad into the finest meal served at any extravagant palace.   
It was weird having an angel that needed to sleep. He grew tired easily, the emotions so hard on him that he would be taking naps throughout the day as well as sleeping through the night. He'd sleep in the backseat of the Impala, not caring about how loud Bad Company was played. He'd sleep on the floor of the motel room if no one would get off of their bed to give him a spot. He'd fallen asleep in the bathroom a few times, his face still wet from tears, the emotions draining all of his strength.  
It was sleep that concerned Dean the most.  
Sam was more open about it; asking Cas questions that would fluster him, make him question himself, make him scared of what he was going through all over again. He'd gotten their little trench coated angel to cry many times just by asking him what his dreams were about. The dreams were a problem. Cas would talk in his sleep and sometimes the words and the names were clear enough to be considered words, and even then it was rare when the words were in English.   
Dean never asked about them, but he studied them as best he could. The sounds would wake him up and he would sit in his bed, watching Cas thrash and shake and cry in the bed beside him. He wanted to reach out, to wake the angel up. He had a nostalgic feeling to Cas's nightmares, remembering Sammy's all those years ago. He would climb into Dean's bed, into Dean's lap and Dean would wrap his arms around him, running his fingers though Sammy's soft hair and sooth the nightmares away. He knew that wouldn't go over well with Cas though.  
Luckily he didn't have to deal with the nightmares every night.  
They were still renting motel rooms with only two beds, which meant only one Winchester had to deal with the dreams at a time. They got two nights of uninterrupted sleep to Cas's three.   
There was another development in Cas that Dean couldn't stand as well. It was something that only happened around him. If Sam or Bobby touched Cas, he was fine, open and warm to them, but when Dean reached out to him, tried to make any contact, Cas would flinch, wince, and turn away. It was like he was afraid Dean was going to hurt him. Sure, Dean had hit him a few times, stabbed him and shot him when they first met, but Cas had definitely paid him back for that.   
He wanted to ask about it, but Cas was in no condition to answer any kind of question, especially a personal one.   
It was his turn to share the motel room with Cas. Sam would be sleeping in the Impala. Dean would have one singular beer, watch a bit of tv, soap operas were the best as Cas could ignore them so easily, and not say a word before going to bed. That was what they always did now that Cas was human. He couldn't say anything without sparking an emotion and he couldn't touch Cas without scaring him half to death.  
Within an hour Cas was asleep and Dean was quick to follow. He turned off Destinos and climbed into bed, hardly taking off any of his clothes. Cas was borrowing a shirt and sweats from him, not having any sleeping gear of his own and Sam's had been much too large, comically so. Dean would have stayed up longer, but he doubted he would get any sleep once Cas's nightmares came.   
He was right and soon enough Cas was sweating in the bed next to his, clutching the fabric and moaning, turning and tossing and threatening to fall off of the side. Dean woke at the sound of him gasping and calling out, but he was quieter than usual, muttering instead of screaming, so Dean was almost asleep within a moment, glad that Cas was at least being quiet.   
The muttering was in the language of the angels and Dean couldn't understand a word of it. It didn't matter anyway, it was just a dream. He closed his eyes.  
He couldn't understand a word, but he recognized the names. He woke more fully when he heard Cas muttering to Uriel, sounding as if he were giving some kind of order. He spoke to Uriel in his dream for a while before going quiet, listening to those angels in his head. Maybe the dream was over but Dean couldn't take his eyes away. He was curious. He wanted to know what the dream was about.  
"Alastair." Cas whispered and his voice was filled with dread, even in dream state.  
And Dean knew. Dean knew where Cas was when he was dreaming. Hell. It was always Hell.   
It was weird and hard to imagine an angel with PTSD, but that's what it was. Dean remembered his first few months out of Hell, the drinking, the dreams, the flashbacks when he was awake, how scared Sam was of him, how he jumped at everything. Cas wasn't jumping at everything though, he was just jumping at Dean.   
At least Cas was quiet now but he was shaking and sweating in his bed. Dean rose, worrying about him even more that he had thought he would. The angel was positively shivering and Dean couldn't help but think it was his fault. If it hadn't been for him Cas would never have had to go to Hell.   
He stepped over to the other bed, trying to be as quiet as possible. He watched Cas sleep for a while, thinking of what Sam had done when he'd had nightmares of Hell. Sam would touch him, lightly, run fingers through his hair. While it wasn't strong enough to wake him it had been enough to sooth him.   
Dean was sure that Cas wouldn't notice and he was sure that he wouldn't say anything about it even he did.   
Dean bent forward, petting the wet and sticky black hair. It was thick and soft under the layers of fear induced sweat. It was weird, being this close, to touching Cas. He did stop moving though and his breathing became slower. 

The next day Dean and Sam roomed together, with Cas in the Impala. Dean had been right though, Cas hadn't mentioned anything about Dean touching him and he highly doubted he'd even noticed it. 

After that it was Sam and Cas spending the night in the motel while Dean was in the Impala. He'd grown used to other people sleeping around him and now that he was alone it was hard for him to sleep. He couldn't get it out of his head how little Cas wanted to be touched by him. The angel had spent most of the day in the bathroom so they'd tried to stay away, give him some privacy. Dean couldn't help it though; the few moments he had been in the motel room he had heard him through the walls.   
Cas was in there and he was crying. The sobs were loud and muffled as if he was trying to keep them in.   
He wanted in there. He wanted Cas to be alright. Cas was an angel, he should have been stronger than all of them, but here he was, crying like a child.   
He never even asked.

Once again Dean and Cas were sharing a room and the questions were bubbling in Dean's throat. He wanted to ask about everything, the crying, the flinching, the dreams. He wasn't any good at this stuff and they had been on a hunt that day, so he didn't dare ask them, even though they were burning his mind.   
It was Cas's first hunt as a human since stopping the Croatoan virus with Sam and Bobby. He still had the moves of an angelic warrior but he was lacking in the stamina and the superman strength he once had. He'd gotten hurt too. Not badly but he'd gotten scraped up and bruised a bit. His eye had swollen shut and his nose was broken, but they had taken care of him as best they could.   
Now he was asleep, lying on his back. Usually he slept on his side, but the scrapes on his arms burned and itched and he couldn't sleep on them. The bruises on his ribs hurt too.   
He was quiet for a long time and Dean was pretty sure he wouldn't make any noise that night. Being hurt and exhausted from a fight usually made it a bit harder to have nightmares. You ended up sleeping without any dreams at all.   
After a few hours of silent bliss Dean woke hearing Cas screaming in his sleep. Not a quiet night after all. The screams were garbled nonesense, not words, not the language of angels, not Enoccian, just sound. Sounds of pain and anguish and agony. The sound of torture.   
Dean was awake and staring, not sure what to do. The angel was thrashing like he was in the jaws of a shark. His knuckles were white as they clutched at the sheets. He was soaking wet, sweat soaking into his borrowed clothes and into the once white blankets of the motel. And then the screams were words.  
"Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeean! Stop pleeeeeeeeeeeeease!" he was screaming and the people in the room next to theirs were banging on the wall, trying to get Cas to shut up. Dean just stared. Never had Cas called out to him, never. And now here he was screaming in remembered pain and calling out his name, "Please! Say yes! Yeeeeeeeeeeeees! I… OhFatherImsosorryImsosorry… Deeeeeeeeean! I need your. AUGH! I need you! Pleeeeease! Consent!"  
Dean didn't understand. Consent? Consent to what? To Michael? That was out of his hands now, Adam was the vessel now. But this was a memory, a dream; maybe at that point Cas had wanted him to say yes. It was before he'd rebelled, before he had a mind of his own, and it was possible that he had wanted Dean to be the vessel before he'd raised him from Hell.   
Had Dean ruined Cas's life by saying no?  
The thrashing grew worse and the screams returned to noise and Cas was a quivering mess and then he was on the floor. He had rolled too hard, thrashed too strongly, and he had wrenched himself off of the bed, dragging the blankets down with him.   
Dean was at his side in a moment, dragging the cocoon of blankets away from him.  
"Cas?" he asked, hoping the angel was alright, "Cas?"  
Upon seeing Dean so close Cas jumped and crawled into the corner, getting small and covering himself as best he could with his arms. He was defensive, afraid of Dean, worse than usual. There were tears running down his face and he was dragging in broken breaths, not quite able to choke down oxygen in his bewildered state.   
Dean wanted to approach him, to get close, to sooth him, but he didn't. He reached out, offering one hand, but he didn't rise from his spot on the ground, kept holding the blankets in one hand.  
"Cas, please." Dean swallowed, hard, "Tell me what's going on. This has been going on too long."  
Cas started shaking all over again, but this time it was from the sobs raking his body. He buried his face in his hands, his knees up and over his chest. He couldn't say anything through his tears. Dean knelt before him, waiting.   
"You have to tell me Cas, I can't help you if you don't."  
"Why?" Cas finally coughed out, "Why are you here, why do you want to help me?"  
"Cas, you're…" it was hard for Dean to get the words out. It was more of a chick flick moment than he'd eve shared with Sam and it was weird to have it with an angel. He'd never had a friend before, not a real one, not someone who wasn't family who he could depend on and then there was Cas. He had never wanted to like Cas but he did. He trusted him with his life, with everything. He didn't know how he could say it, "You're my brother. You're my family. You're my friend. I want you to be okay."  
Cas looked up and the tears were streaming down his face but at least the shaking had calmed, "Friend?" he asked and the word sounded even weirder, even more foreign when Cas said it. Maybe it was his first time too, "Why would you say that? You only ever wanted me when I was useful, only ever called me when you needed my services. I am not your friend. I was always only a tool. Now I'm useless. I'm useless and pathetic and I can't even go a day without crying. I should leave. I have no use to you."  
"You don't have to have a use." Dean explained, thinking how Bobby had been when he'd first lost his legs. It was the same thing except Cas didn't have any reason to think they'd want him. Bobby had been their father figure for so long, he was family. Cas had no family. He was right too; they had never called him over when they wanted him around. They never did things with him that friends do unless they thought he would be dead the next day. Dean suddenly wished they had, "We do want you, regardless of angel powers. We need you to be you."  
Cas was silent, biting his lip. He drew blood and didn't even seem to notice it. It didn't seem to matter what Dean would say, he wouldn't listen. "You shouldn't lie to me." He whispered and Dean could barely hear it.   
He couldn't answer it either. He wasn't lying but he knew Cas wouldn't believe that.   
"The dream." He pressed, "You told me to consent. You were screaming."  
"You don't want to know." Cas tried to stifle the sobs from rising in his throat again.  
"I do."   
"It was Hell Dean. I do not wish to discuss it. I have already purged your mind of our meeting down there. I do not see the point of telling you what I have made you forget."  
"You made me forget things? Cas! You can't do that! It's my mind!" and now Dean was angry, not horribly so, but a bit. If Cas had made him forget that, what else had he forgotten at the angel's censorship? How many of his memories were even his. He tried to hide it though, keep the anger in check, deep down. It wasn't something they needed right then.   
"Trust me. These are not things you would have enjoyed remembering. These memories have no purpose."  
"Tough." Dean crawled forward, ignoring Cas's flinching as he got closer.  
"I had to ask for your consent to take you out of Hell, but you did not give it. Not for a long time."  
"You couldn't just take me out?"  
"I was an Angel of the Lord and you are the Righteous Man. I could do nothing without your consent."  
"What did I do to you?"  
"I would rather not say."  
"I put you on my rack, didn't I?"  
"You would not consent because you were enjoying yourself too much. I should have been better prepared. I should have come sooner."  
"I tortured you."  
"I had to stay until you consented. I was ordered not to leave Hell without you."  
"All those things. And I did them to you." There were tears welling up in Dean's eyes. What kind of monster was he? What kind of bastard tortured souls and enjoyed it? Who could put an angel on a rack and torture them instead of listening to them, instead of being taken home?  
"You were not Dean Winchester anymore."  
"And yet you came to me afterwards. The first thing I did was stab you. Why would you do all of these things for me?"  
"You are Dean Winchester. You are more important than pain. If you wish, I will leave. You would be best off without me."  
"Why?"  
"Now you know what happened between us. I am nothing more than another reminder of the pains of Hell."  
"How can you stand it? How can you stand being near me?"  
"I have faith in you, Dean. I wish to be useful to you."  
Dean ignored the flinching and the pained sound Cas made as he closed the space between them, wrapping his arms around Cas's shoulders. He was disgusting, this human being who tortured souls and angels and then treated them like garbage until they felt like they weren't wanted. He held Cas close to him, squeezing him just a little bit too hard. There were tears rolling down his cheeks, catching and soaking in with the sweat in the shirt Cas was wearing. He was horrible; he had dealt so much damage. Holding Cas he could feel that damage, the thinness of his body regardless of his large appetite, the short breaths, the pounding and fast heartbeat. He had broken an angel in so many ways yet here Cas was, still not giving up on him.  
The only reason Cas wanted to leave was to make things easier on him.  
"Don't go, Cas." Dean pleaded, "Please. I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry. I shouldn't ask you to stay but I need you. I need to know that you're okay and I need you to be around. I don't care what you are. I just need you to be my friend."  
Cas's arms were hesitant with uncertainty and pain, but they wrapped clumsily around Dean's shoulders as best they could. It wasn't easy when you'd never hugged someone before.  
"I'll do my best to be your friend Dean." He promised, "I am sorry I am not a good one."  
"You're the best friend I ever had." Dean admitted.  
Cas didn't want to go back to bed, he just kept on holding Dean, his tears soaking through the strong man's shirt. Bed was where memories came through and he did not like them. He wanted to be awake, with Dean, being friends. He knew that Dean needed sleep though.  
"You should return to bed." He whispered into his friend's-yes, friend's-hair.  
"That's my Cas, always looking out for me."  
He helped Dean up to his feet and walked him to the bed. He was easily led, tired from crying and nights without sleep. He fell into the cold motel bed and allowed Cas to pull the blankets over him before sitting on his own bed, staring blankly ahead.  
"You're not sleeping?" Dean asked, looking up at him.   
"I do not wish to dream." Castiel explained.  
Dean wriggled one arm out of the bed, patting the spot before him, "C'mon. You can sleep with me tonight."  
"I don't understand." Cas tilted his head, confused.  
"I used to do this with Sam when he had nightmares as a kid. Hop in. I won't let any bad dreams in. Just don't tell anyone about this."  
Cas climbed under the blankets, snuggling his body tightly against Dean's. The larger of them draped his arm over Cas's side, being careful of the bruised ribs and the scraped skin. Within minutes they were asleep, Dean's breath and body warm against Cas's skin.   
He had no more bad dreams that night.


End file.
